The Rain is all that's Left
by digisammiegirl
Summary: Takeshi Yamamoto goes through life with a smile on his face, a laugh in his voice, and the love of his family in his heart. What if this wasn't always the case? The people that once put Takeshi through hell want their 'Savior' back. What is Takeshi to do? And Vongola's reaction? The Wizarding World will burn.
1. Survival

Waking up was a shock. First was the panic. _gottarungottarungottahide_ Then came the disorientation. _Why was the world spinning?_ And then the vertigo. _Why is everything out of reach?_ Followed by the paranoia. _Where are they? Where will they come from?_ The pain was an afterthought. Besides…

The rain seemed to be washing the pain away.

* * *

Or, at least, the rain seemed to be numbing is. For two days Harry stayed in the damp alley he found himself in, forcing his limbs to comply and cover himself with convenient cardboard whenever someone made their way through, his body a mass of pain. Even his pinky hurt when he tried to orient himself. An arm? He scared a stray cat with the noise he made the first time he tried. And what was the frantic mumbling he heard from the kid passing by? Some sort of spell?

Harry focused on nothing for those two days other than trying to move his _damn bloody body_ , to the point he couldn't pay attention to any of his other needs. On the third day, he forced himself to do so. His stomach, while also in pain, couldn't be ignored for its hunger. His need for water, not so much. It had been raining nonstop. All he had to do was look up, pry his mouth open, and he had a nice mouthful of fresh rain water. Not the most hygienic, but something was better than nothing.

Slowly, Harry forced himself to his knees. Breathing deeply to at least curb the pain, he started clinging and climbing up the wall of the alley to stand. The effort made the edges of his fuzzy eyesight go dark. Moss greeted his fingertips, a cool welcome and distraction. Gritting his teeth, he persisted. He needed to find food.

Using the wall as a crutch, Harry slowly shuffled his way down the alley, cursing obstacles like garbage bags and a flower pot that made him have to go around. Still he persisted.

After what seemed like a pain-filled eternity, Harry could finally see light at the end of his alley. Peering out, it looked like a really old neighborhood though well kept. Looking from side to side, there were no moving blurry objects which meant there wasn't anyone on the street currently. It would be good to have glasses, but priorities first.

Choosing a random direction, Harry started climbing up the slight slope stiffly yet steadily. He couldn't use the walls here as it would make him look suspicious. They could come for him at any time. He didn't want to stand out. It was bad enough he was out in the open and exposed, but he supposed the washed-out rat look wouldn't draw too much attention.

As he walked the street, Harry tried to keep a lookout for signs of life, for life meant there was food he could pilfer. Stealing a loaf of bread from an open window was child's play after doing it often enough during his run through the backwoods of England while dodging Snatchers and Deatheaters. While he could smell things cooking, he couldn't make out the tell-tale sign of a window. Every now and again he could hear bigger crowds and they were sometimes marked by bright red balls of light on the outside. Lanterns he supposed. Harry wrote them off as restaurants after he caught a glimpse of people sitting at what he thought were tables at one of the places with the red lanterns. This one had a strong smell of fish.

Shaking his head, Harry continued up the slope. He didn't hear anything that sounded like English. Was something wrong with his ears?

Eventually, the houses thinned around him, giving way to a thick foliage of trees. A forest he could handle. It was familiar. Even with his eyesight he could forage for something to staunch his hunger.

Smiling slightly, Harry continued up the ever increasing slope until he came to a set of stairs with what looked like a red archway. It looked familiar, like he had seen it somewhere before. In a book perhaps? Hermione would know.

Harry shook his head violently and started forcing his boy up the steps. This was obviously a path that would lead deeper into the forest which is what he needed at the moment. He would have better luck finding something further in rather than on the fringes of the trees, and it would provide enough cover to hide in.

Slowly, he dragged his pained body up the steps. _Why do they seem so steep?_ His mind focused only on making the next step followed by the next, and then the next, and then the next.

After what seemed an eternity, Harry forced his feet onto the last step having forgone crawling halfway through. He didn't think he would have been able to pick himself back up if he had done so, though he had been sorely tempted.

Gasping for breath, Harry took a short break to look around. There wasn't much to see at the top of the staircase except for what looked like a small shack. Was this someone's home?

With that thought, Harry decided that break time was over and headed toward the nearby tree line, intent on finding food. After a short ways in, Harry stopped to feel the trees. There was a particular way the trees felt combined with the way the shadows fell that would help him pinpoint edibles. Wild strawberries were his favorite while wild potatoes came in at a close second.

Running his hands over the tree, Harry became still. The bark was different. This wasn't an oak tree. The texture was off. Harry sniffed the wind. The scent was wrong too. He bent to examine the dirt at the base of the tree and gave it a sniff. The dirt here was heavily perfumed unlike the heady rich scents he was accustomed to.

Old friend panic started creeping back up.

And was forced down with a vengeance. Now wasn't the time.

Following old habits, Harry started scouring the ground for edibles with his hands. Eventually, he found something that looked promising. Sheltered in an alcove of stones was a peculiar plant. Slowly, he pried it from the ground, got as much of the dirt off and gave it a sniff too. The leafage was a dark green which was a good sign while the stalk seemed similar to asparagus. Whatever it was wasn't poisonous though which was also good. Holding out the plant so that the rain could get to it, he gave it a good scrub to get rid of more of the dirt. Taking a fortifying breath, Harry took a bite. It was tart. Almost like rhubarb in flavor. Not caring, he devoured it.

Really, it was one of the best things he has had to eat in a long while.

Shaking his head of bad thoughts, Harry bent to collect another of the tart plant, intent on eating his full. He only paused when he started to notice that it was getting darker. Grimacing, he came to a decision while he gathered a small bundle of the plant to take with him. It was too late to try and make it back to the alley. Perhaps he would have luck hiding at the shack? He could hide under the stoop if he was careful. He had done it before. Gave the residence a scare that they were being haunted, but he could do it.

Turning back towards the shack, Harry approached with caution and gave the place another inspection. It was old, made of wood, and painted a murky yellow in places. Stepping up towards where he assumed was the entrance, Harry carefully listened for people. Surly there was someone here despite the small size of the structure.

Surprised when no sound of human life emerged, Harry stepped under the eave and looked up from under the paper hanging from a rope crossed over the entryway. Surly there would be a door here.

Harry pushed and prodded at the odd wooden lattice frame as there was no knob to turn. Giving the 'door' a particularly vicious jab with a finger, Harry stilled in shock when his finger went through the gap in the wood frame. Paper. The door was made of paper.

Que panic.

Not now. He couldn't deal with this now, yet he could feel his breathing starting become labored. The edges of his eyesight was starting to fade again.

Removing his finger from the new hole, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on his current mission. Bending down, Harry looked through the hole. There was a room on the other side. Now how to get in? What was it that paper doors did again? Slide?

Pausing, Harry looked for a section in the middle where the lattice work seemed to double. That would be where the sliding doors would meet, right? Finding it, he felt up the split. Nothing that seemed like it could be a handle, but as he felt further up, there was an indent in the wood, perfect for a handhold. Grabbing one side, he applied slight pressure, hoping it would slide as he liked.

The dark room greeted him with his success. Quickly, he scurried in and slid the door closed. Choosing a corner close to the door, he slid down into a ball and started munching on his harvest.

Panic started retreating. He had food and a roof over his head. Sure he was soaked and, now that the adrenalin he had been running on was run out now that he wasn't moving, he was starting to shake, but that was nothing new. He had dealt with worse. He would figure things out in the morning.

He wasn't Harry Potter, the Most-Wanted-Man-In-The-World for nothing. He would survive.

* * *

And que AN.

Disclaimer: All characters and series belong to their respective owners. I make no money writing this. It is just for fun.

I should really be working on my Usopp piece instead of this, but I just couldn't help myself. This bunny has been hopping around in my head ever since I 'rediscovered' KHR and read "A Swordsman's Road" by Leelhiette. It is awesome! It hasn't been updated in quite a while, but Lillhiette says it will be eventually, so I eagerly await.

I was also thinking of 'jumping on the Skull bandwagon', but figured there were a lot of fics out there that focus on the Skull-is-Harry concept. I love this concept and hope to adopt it myself eventually. I do plan on making Skull a better side character than KHR has him as, but we'll see. This fic I'm going to write by the seat of my pants. No notes, no nothing, only the idea that I know where I want to go with it. For instance, there is this one scene that keeps playing in my head where Takashi…well, I'll just have to eventually get there and you read it. ^_^

Let me know what you think!


	2. The Language of Baseball

Harry stared at his reflection with deadpan eyes. Looking over his figure, he couldn't help but once again go over the last few days.

It had been nearly a week since he had found the 'shack' and had made it into his temporary hideout. After a having a full belly and some actual sleep, the pain had subsided enough for him to actually take in his surroundings, and it hadn't been a pleasant revelation.

It was not the fact that the 'shack' was actually a shrine he had found himself in. It was not the fact that none of the surrounding architecture or foliage was familiar to him. It was not the fact that no one spoke English. Even the fact that everything was blurry without his glasses was not as bad as the number one reason that his situation was so terrible.

No, it was the fact that the reason for why he had such a hard time moving that first day out of the alley. Why the stairs were so steep. Why getting around garbage bags and flower pots was such a hassle.

He had shrunk.

He looked to be the age of a toddler. About 3 years old he would say according to the reflection in the bathroom mirror he was looking at. Of course, he could be wrong. He was always smaller than his age group.

There were now a few questions that he needed to answer. Sources of answers, however, were few and far between. How could he find answers in Japan?

The last thing he remembered was being half unconscious in his cell in the Department of Mysteries. He had been levitated to his usual place, only partially aware of his surroundings. And, like usual, a potion of some sort was forced down his throat. Heat forcing itself down his body wasn't a stranger, nor was the tingling through his extremities.

What was unusual were the sounds. There was a clanging that reverberated through the room. Shouting echoed and panic was thick in the air.

He remembered someone holding him and running. They said something to him, but what escaped him.

Next thing he knew, he was wet and in that alley.

Don't get him wrong, he was glad to be out of that hell hole, but was his current situation any better? The British Ministry was probably throwing a fit with him gone and were probably looking for him. Japan was literally on the opposite side of the world. He probably would be safe for the moment unless the Ministry turned it into an international witch hunt.

How he got there was obvious. An international portkey was the most likely culprit, but why it hadn't been tracked could only mean it had some powerful runes on it. So powerful that when he had gone back to find what had been used as a portkey, all he could find was a small round burn circle. His only explanation was that it had self-destructed after its use.

That still left him at square one. He was a little kid in Japan. He didn't have glasses and he couldn't speak let alone read the language. He didn't know the terrain, the people or the culture. Heck, he didn't know what the magical enclaves were like, where they were located, or what their stance on him was.

His best course of action was to lay low and at least try to blend in. As much as an obvious foreign kid could at least.

Stepping out of the public restroom he was happy to have found the day after taking residence in the shrine, Harry narrowed his eyes as he tried to see the people around him. He was in a shopping center from the looks of it. Adults shuffled to and fro as they went about their business, chatting to one another as they went, and, while he couldn't really see them, he could feel their eyes on him occasionally.

Of course he was going to stand out, but what was the best way to blend in when you know you could be spotted from a mile away? Smile and act like you know where you are going. Freshly wiped down from his jaunt to the bathroom and with a smile on his face, Harry headed in a random direction while being careful to monitor his foot work. Kids didn't really walk let alone walk straight, right?

As he walked, he poked his nose into whatever caught his eye, trying to play up the wandering child act. He had been doing so for almost a week now, so some of the venders recognized him if their hollering and waving at him were anything to go bay. Harry avoided them as best he could.

Using the skills he had learned while on the run, Harry deftly dodged adults as he made his way through the crowd. If he was able to snatch a few wallets along the way, all the better for him, right?

Emptying the wallets of their money and leaving them in a pile to be picked up later, he started towards another part of the market, stopping in front of what he remembered were apples. Holding some of the change out to the vendor who laughed and said something while ruffling his hair, he listened as the vendor held up one coin after another from his hand before replacing them with an apple. Giving a smile and a bow, Harry hurried away.

The first time Harry had approached this particular stall, the vendor had sounded quite upset. Trying to muster up the energy to act as a vulnerable child who didn't really know what he was doing, and really that is what he was at that point, he had simply held up his hands with the money in them. The vendor had sighed, roughly taken the money and handed him an apple.

Harry came back the next day, and the next. On the fourth day, the vendor had sounded resigned and laughed before starting to give Harry impromptu counting lessons. Harry had stretched his smile as wide as he could as he carefully listened.

Smiling tiredly as he munched on his apple, Harry made his way towards what he figured was a park. He had noticed that there were not a lot of children until much later in the day which made sense. He would have to learn the school schedule which would help him know when to hide when he needed to. In the meantime, the park was a nice place to contemplate and study the things he had learned so far.

Simple words and phrases he had picked up he reviewed out loud when he was safely back at the shrine. He didn't think his accent was up to snuff yet, though mimicking the children he listened to in the afternoon was starting to become easier. He went over his numbers and tried to figure out the writing system, repeating the most common symbols in the dirt with his finger. 'Man' and 'woman' had been easy as they had been on the bathroom doors. Others, not so much, but the smaller and less complicated symbols under or above the larger more intricate symbols were starting to make a little more sense.

Pondering his progress, Harry chided his lack of awareness as he came upon a bunch of children in the large field at the park. They had not been there the day before nor throughout Harry's short time there. Obviously there was no school and that made today a weekend probably. Good to know.

Harry munched on his apple as he observed. He had noticed the field during his usual strolls around the area, learning as much as he could of the place, but hadn't given it much thought. Looking at it now, he could easily see that the children were playing on a large baseball diamond. His primary school back in England had one as well.

Thinking this a good opportunity to learn, Harry finished his apple and headed towards the edge of the field. It was close enough he could listen, yet far enough he wouldn't get in the way.

For a while, Harry sat and listened, enjoying watching the kids play as he noted common words and phrases as he tried to figure out their meaning. Children's language was much easier to figure out. In contrast, trying to figure out the advanced vocabulary and grammar of an adult was much harder without any context.

Harry was started out of his contemplation as a kid started making his way over to him. Nervously looking back and forth to see if the child was in fact heading his way, he stood up while beating himself up in his head. He was nervous about a child approaching him for Merlin's sake!

The kid approaching him was all smiles and enthusiastic energy as he thrust a hand towards Harry and babbled something. Still not understanding what he wanted, Harry smiled back and cocked his head. Thankfully, the body language worked as the kid rolled his eyes, grabbed Harry's hand, and started pulling him towards the field.

It took a lot of control to keep himself from doing anything to the kid. Like break his hand.

The child positioned him in the batting area and yelled something to another kid. A bat was thrown his way. Catching it, the child turned and thrust it in Harry's hands. Oh! The kid wanted him to play. Alright, he could do that.

Positioning himself like he saw the other kids doing, Harry couldn't help but flush when laughter erupted behind me. The child that had pulled him to the field laughed as he came up behind Harry and started correcting his posture and hand position, babbling as he did so. The kid then proceeded to demonstrate how to swing the bat. Watching, Harry mimicked him and smiled when he got a positive sounding response. With a firm clap on the shoulder and a thumbs up, the kid signaled towards the pitcher and stepped back.

Harry got into position and squinted. All he had to do was hit the ball. Waiting for the blur on the mound to move, Harry waited until he saw the ball. Suddenly, there was a cry and Harry looked back. He had missed the ball entirely, he realized, as the ball was thrown back by the catcher.

Harry broke out into a cold sweat. If that had been aimed at him, he would not have seen it until it was too late. If it had been from an enemy, a hit could have been farm more serious than a strike. Ignoring the disappointed cries of most of the kids on the field and the encouraging ones of the child that had pulled him onto the game in the first place, Harry focused on his eyes. Surly there was a way he could see the ball, right? It was just like Quiditch. Heck, the baseball was much bigger than a snitch.

Squinting hard, Harry got back into position and focused on his eyes. Nodding his head at the pitcher, he waited and watched. Straining his eyes, he saw what might have been a white blur heading his way. Harry swung blindly. Another cry from the crowding kids. He had one more try though, right?

Facing the crowd, Harry smiled and laughed. He scratched the back of his head in order to give himself more time to think. This was a game of hand-eye coordination. He just had to predict where the ball was and then accurately swing the bat. It was like playing Seeker and Beater at the same time.

Taking a deep breath, Harry got into position again, squinted, and nodded. This time, he calculated where the blurred ball was, where and how hard he would have to swing the bat, and, just as he had seen the twins do oh so long ago, he swung. He knew he had made contact when he felt resistance in the swing and from the loud crack as the ball and bat made contact. Pushing through, Harry completed his swing.

There was silence from the crowd. Harry looked around and could see the children's faces looking out past the field. Looking, Harry could just make out a figure running further from the field. With a cry, the crowd started cheering. Startled, Harry dropped the bat before the kid came and excitedly starting pushing him. Oh! Right.

With a grin, Harry took off for first base. Stopping, he turned around and saw arms swinging. They wanted him to run again? Harry complied and sprinted for second base. Panting, he made it just in time when the kid on second caught the ball. Smiling, he turned towards the crowd near home plate and raised a fist. Shouting answered him.

As he waited for the next person up to bat to swing, Harry contemplated what he had learned. His eye sight was horrible. His physical stamina was not great either if he was out of breath from just what should have been the equivalent to a quick jog. He was learning more of the language as he played with the kids and doing so didn't make him stand out. Maybe trading Quiditch for baseball wouldn't be a bad thing.

Well, at least until he could figure out more of his situation.

* * *

AN: Harry has always been an athlete in some sense of the word. Chores as the Dursley's, Quiditch at Hotwarts, and then fighting a war. Quite the steep ladder, no?

I hope I got this alright. I feel stilted in my writing. Well, considering it's been a while, but still.

Let me know what you guys think!


	3. Running Rain

It was inevitable, Harry thought, that when you live on the streets, you'll run into trouble. Trouble came in all shapes, sizes, and situations. Local police were not something Harry had a lot of dealings with as he was usually constantly on the move. The local criminal elements were also low on Harry's list of 'things to be aware of'.

Harry regretted not originally thinking too much of it as he ran from an officer in blue through the busy morning market.

Truancy was something he was quite familiar with, however. Duddly practiced it a lot back in primary school while he himself cut class entirely near the end of his Hogwarts career. Listening to the kids from the baseball field talk about their older siblings, particularly those that skipped school often, Harry knew he couldn't let himself get caught. That would just lead to a whole bunch of questions that he really did not want answered or looked in to. Leaping over a pile of bags and listening to the officer stumble through them, Harry winced. He couldn't blame the guy in blue. He was only doing his job. Maybe he could leave some pastries at this one's police box.

Taking advantage of the officer's delay around the bags, Harry ducked into an alley and sprinted down its length. If the officer was any kind of competent, he would look up, find Harry gone, and deduce where he had gone.

Unfortunately for Harry, this particular officer seemed to be rather good at his job as his whistle blew and echoed down the alley. Quietly cursing, Harry picked up speed before making a turn towards a fence. With a hard jump and quick pull, he scurried over the fence and continued to make his way through the yard he found himself in, startling the old man on the other side.

Ignoring the yelling that Harry recognized as a reprimand, he continued jumping fences and running through yards until he came to the last fence. Grinning, Harry stopped and quietly advanced towards the fence in order to look through a hole in the wood. If Harry were the one trying to catch a kid jumping fences, he would do the smart thing and go around and wait for him to emerge on the other side. And, lo and behold, there was his pursuer waiting with a twitchy eyebrow for Harry to jump the last fence.

Quietly, Harry backed away from the fence and started making his way back the way he came. Carefully climbing the fence, he then dashed the rest of the way until he was back where he started, ignoring the old man making a fuss in the background. Pausing on top of the fence to make sure the officer hadn't cottoned on, Harry jumped to the ground and dashed back out into the market, making sure to regulate his breathing. One good thing from these games of cat-and-mouse was that it was increasing Harry's stamina and physical health.

Over the last five or so months since Harry had found himself in Japan, he had run from the police several times. One officer in particular seemed insistent on catching him. Hibari, Harry thinks, is what the other officers called him. When he mentioned the name to his baseball playmates and unknowing language teachers, the kids all reacted enthusiastically. Why did Harry have to attract the head of police?

Potter luck at its finest.

Harry winced as he remembered what that luck also had a habit of getting him involved with as the police were not the only authority figures he had run in to. The Momoyokai were a yakuza group that basically claimed the town he had found himself in as their territory. He had not known who he had walked in on one evening on his way back to the shrine, but he knew a beating when he saw one. It was only a weird twist of the Potter luck that it was dark out and the yakuza had not seen him. It was again the kids that he learned about the group from as one of them had an uncle that was a member.

Since then, he had been approached by those he had marked as Momoyokai members several times. While his Japanese was good enough to make small talk with the kids, understanding an adult was still slightly difficult. Harry had understood the word 'money' and 'stealing', however, during his jaunts down streets with the yakuza members not far behind. All he could guess was that the group was not happy with him pickpocketing on their turf. Fair enough, but that didn't mean that they could chase after him with the pocket knives they had started slashing at him recently.

At first, the chases with the Momoyokai had simply been that, chases like the one Harry had just finished with the police officer. In the last month, however, the yakuza had become quite fierce where it concerned him. He could understand their frustration at not catching him, but the addition of the knives brought these chases to a new level of tension and intent that Harry was not keen on receiving.

Harry's repertoire of curses and threats had subsequently increased.

Harry shuddered at the thought of confronting his yakuza pursuers as he continued along through the market area towards the baseball field. It was nearly time for the kids to be out and they might have decided to play a bit. A couple of games would do him good to cool down from the earlier run.

Thankfully, Harry could hear the crack of a bat as he neared the field. Slipping on a smile, Harry gathered his energy to run and wave towards the small crowd of kids. "Hey, any spots open," he asked with an exaggerated huff as he approached.

As one, the kids looked at him before two started glaring at each other. "You had him last time. It's my turn!"

"Who cares? He's on my team," the second yelled in reply. These two, Harry remembered, were usually the team captains, though he hadn't quite gotten their names yet. After Harry had shown that he was an adept player, they had started fighting over him.

Determined not to let the fighting interfere, Harry approached the quarreling duo. "Ma, ma! No need to fight. Which team has more players? I'll play for the other team," he proposed with a smile. Grudgingly, one of the two conceded while the other grinned triumphantly. Harry relaxed as he went towards him impromptu teammates.

* * *

The game continued until it was nearly dark and one of the kids claimed that they were needed back home. One by one, the children bid their goodbyes to each other until all that was left was Harry standing alone on the field, but Harry didn't mind. Leaning back in the small set of bleachers, the quiet of the recently abandoned park gave Harry time to think.

Police, yakuza, and baseball aside, the first three months since Harry had arrived in Japan had been filled with worry and paranoia. Even after five months, he still had no idea where the Japanese Ministry of Magic or their equivalent was located, nor had someone from the British Ministry come for him. It had gotten to the point that Harry had started relaxing in the last two months. He still constantly watched his surroundings, but the tense muscles in his back had relaxed if only a little bit.

The question still remained, however, what he was going to do. Living as a street kid was all well and good, but what about later on? Should he move to another town? Continue to find the magical enclaves?

Just the thought of the Japanese magical community brought up a lot of other questions. As far as Harry could tell, he had a few outbursts of what could only be accidental magic since he arrived. The majority of them happened when he was nearly caught by the police or the yakuza usually resulting in wooden boards flying into the back of people's heads, flower pots crashing into knees, and shoe strings tying themselves together. The most memorable was when one yakuza member's hair had turned blue. The yakuza member had started chanting what Harry now knew as prayers to ward off evil before turning and running away.

And yet no one came for him for these displays of magic.

Five months of practically nothing. It was starting to feel, if Harry could call it anything, aggravating.

A twig snapped behind him. Jolting up from his reclined position on the bleachers, Harry whipped around and cursed his Potter luck. Previous attempts at capture from the yakuza involved one, maybe three at most, members chasing after him. This time they brought five. Four were wielding knives while the fifth one in the middle had a sword.

An actual bloody sword.

Listening intently, Harry strained to understand what was being said to him as the one with the sword spoke.

"So you're the brat my brothers have been having trouble with. The Momoyokai don't like street rats encroaching on our territory. Now, if you come to meet the boss and swear your loyalty to him, you can continue to do what you want, so long as you pay tribute to us. Sound fair, kid?" Harry understood most of what was said, and there was no way he was swearing loyalty to anyone.

He had done that once and had been burned.

Deciding to not answer, Harry clambered to his feet and took off in the opposite direction of the yakuza. A yell behind him told him that they were in hot pursuit. The sword only increased the ill intent that Harry could feel breathing down his neck.

Normally, Harry would have no problem protecting himself, even from the one with the sword, but with his body the way it was and no wand available, he wasn't taking any chances for injury and possible sickness and infection. With no means of healing or first-aid, one good slice would mean his life. Harry reminded himself of this fact as he raced down streets and alleys, hoping to lose his pursuers.

A chill went through his veins as he turned a corner down an alley that he knew lead towards a police box. Only there were another three yakuza grinning at him. All three had swords.

Cursing, Harry backed up and bolted the way he had been originally running, now with eight men with blades after him.

Harry quickly went through his mental map of the town. There were only so many ways for him to run through the streets without coming upon a dead end, and if there were more waiting for him, he was in serious trouble.

Did that really matter though?

With a wild grin that showed his teeth, Harry decided that no, it didn't matter if he was in trouble. He was probably going to die that night, so what did it matter if he tried to play things safe. Deciding as such, Harry took another turn only to run into two more sword-wielding yakuza. Instead of turning around, however, Harry darted towards the nearby trashcans. Jumping on top of one and ignoring the confused yells from his pursuers, Harry leapt and grabbed onto the eave over the cans and climbed up. He would take the one road he had been wanting to take, but was afraid of using due to his size.

The rooftops.

His wild grin turned sadistic as he darted over the roof and heard the men following him trying to all climb up to the roof at once. Let them try.

A sharp cry of lightning from the sky turned his smile near feral as rain fell to join the chase. His life was in danger from his pursuers and from the now slick rooftops. One slipup and he was dead.

Merlin he had missed this.

Harry flew over the rooftops, enjoying the sting of the rain on his face and pounding of his blood. The yells of the yakuza thrilled him as he jumped over narrow crevices and twirled around chimneys.

Harry was in his element. If he couldn't be in the sky, then high places were his domain. Trees and buildings had been his favorite places to run and stalk. The higher up, the better.

After all, no one looks up when looking for something.

All good things, however, must come to an end, and Harry's fear of overestimating his body eventually came to fruition. His foot, used to greater traction from heavy soled boots, slipped after a jump. With a cry, he fell and slid down the roof. Scrambling to find purchase, Harry tumbled over the edge and into a bush. The branches stung as they whipped his face and arms. They snared his hair and clothes as he scrambled to get up.

Cold fear returned, any confidence he had felt fleeing when laughter reached his ears. "Well, well. Looks like it's the end of the line, little rabbit. Not so quick on your feet now, aren't cha," one of the men with a sword taunted as he stalked towards Harry, still trapped in the bush. The others followed their brother as they jumped down from the roof.

Harry struggled to get out of the bush only to give a sharp cry when he finally got his feet firmly under him. A sharp pain lanced through his left foot. Harry fell again when his body automatically retracted the offending limb from the pain. Gritting his teeth, he tried to put pressure on his foot again. It was definitely broken.

Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly rose to his feet, keeping most of his weight on his right. He had stood on worse things than a broken ankle. Plastering on his friendliest smile and raising his hands in defeat, he acknowledged the taunt. "Whoo! You got me. That was a great run. Think we can do this again sometime," he asked as he carefully controlled his accent.

"Hahaha! Yah! That would be great, kid," one of the other sword wielders agreed. "Only, there isn't going to be a next time. You've caused enough trouble for us as it is," he said as he bounced his sword on a shoulder.

Harry widened his eyes, hoping to go for naive innocence. "Trouble? What did I do," he asked as he cocked his head and pouted his lips. Keep them talking, he thought. The more they talked, the more he could at least try and get out of this mess, if not take a few down with him.

Another sword wielder approached and answered. "We Momoyokai do not like it when you use our grounds without tribute. You've got some nerve, kid, defying us."

Harry's eyes roamed as the yakuza talked. He had fallen into what looked like a small court yard. The house wrapped around all four sides of the area. A tree stood near the middle and a small foot bridge crossed over a stream which nearly bisected the ground. He would have been able to climb the tree if his ankle wasn't broken, and then jump to a nearby bit of roof. The area was big enough that he could have dodged if there had only been a few people after him.

Harry gave a mirthless laugh as he prepared to answer. There was no escape. He was going to die here. "I steal in order to eat. I am a kid. What tribute can I give?"

With a snarl, one of the men with a knife lunged, "By paying with your life, you damn ass kid! You've been causing us trouble for months! The police are riled looking for you which makes it hard for us to move, and it's all because of you!"

Harry braced himself as the man approached. He was going to die, but not without taking at least some of these idiots with him.

"That is quite enough," a voice exclaimed. Surprised, all movement stopped as they looked for the source. A sliding door opened to the side of the gathered group, exposing a man in white and blue Japanese garb. He wore a twisted cloth on his forehead and in his hands he carried an odd pole of wooden slats. Frowning, he approached the group. "You are trespassing. What is the meaning of this?"

"Nothing that has to do with you. This is Momoyokai business, old man. I'd turn away if I were you," the first sword wielder exclaimed.

"I see. And your business has to do with this young boy then," the man commented with a raised brow.

"That is none of your concern," the sword wielder growled as he hunched his shoulders and turned to face the unknown man, his sword at the ready. "Unless you want to face the consequences, I suggest you go back inside."

The man gave a sardonic laugh. "I see, I see. The yakuza have nothing better to do than to pick on little kids now, is that right? Been reduced to thuggery, have you," he cajoled as he tightened his grip on his pole and actually smiled.

The sword wielder turned red. "The boy isn't going anywhere. Deal with the old man first. We don't want any witnesses."

"Yes, sir," a few of the other sword wielders acknowledged as they ran, intent on cutting down the one that had interrupted them.

Harry could only watch on, transfixed. He couldn't sense any anxiety from the man in the blue garb. His stance was relaxed, his eyes closed, and he continued to smile. This man was not worried in the slightest. Harry had seen this in others before, particularly in those that knew their way around in a fight. He was proven right as when the three that had charged were within striking distance the man simply moved. With what looked like a quick slash of his pole, the three men were laying on the wet ground unmoving.

Harry and the yakuza emitted stunned silence, not quite processing what had happened. One swipe was all it took to take out three men.

Harry turned his head back to the yakuza when he heard a growl. The one that had ordered the attack had gone as red as Uncle Vernon when he didn't like something. "Kill him!" The other six charged at the command. Harry tried to concentrate on what was happening, but the rain got in the way. There was a slice down, a cry, and a thud. A swipe to the side, a cry, and another thud. Side step and dodge. Repeat. In moments, the man had nine seemingly unconscious yakuza at his feet.

Bringing his pole in front of him, the man faced the last yakuza member. "You will leave the boy alone. I believe you have other things to worry about, like getting your men medical treatment." Harry, however, knew that the last one wasn't going to do that though. He was close enough to Harry for him to hear the feral growl the man emitted before charging himself. The man seemed to think the same as Harry as he had remained on guard. A dodge, a feint, and a swipe at the temple saw the last yakuza napping on the ground with his brothers.

Harry shook as the situation slowly processed itself in his brain. He was alive. For now at least. Dazedly, he continued to watch the man with the slatted pole.

The man turned towards Harry and smiled as he held his pole to his side. "Well, that was exciting, wasn't it? Not to pry, but why do you have the yakuza going after a grade school kid?" Harry did not respond. The adrenaline had stopped and his vision was going fuzzy on the edges. Not wanting to lose sight of the potential threat, however, Harry turned to face the man with squinted eyes.

The court yard was silent for a beat as the two continued to stare at each other, sizing the other up. "Well, doesn't matter I suppose," the man said as he continued to smile. "You're injured right? Why don't you come inside? I can look at your injuries while we wait for the police."

That had been the wrong this to say. It was bad enough that the yakuza were after him, but to be basically handed over to the police would be just as bad.

Panicked, Harry tried to run towards the tree and use it as a ladder to the roof, but he didn't make it very far. A soothing heat flooded the area, relaxing Harry's muscles. With a groan, he fell to his knees. His body felt heavy. He couldn't move his arms. The pain in his ankle was a dull throb. It felt as if he had been tranquilized. Harry struggled to remain conscious through the increased fog in his head.

"That's quite impressive, young man." Harry could only move his eyes to look at the speaker. The man with the slatted pole was kneeling in front of him. Harry could not bring up the energy to even feel panic at the close proximity. Nor at the fact that the man was slightly glowing blue. "I'm using enough Flames to knock out a grown man, and yet you're still awake. That is very impressive," he said as he reached out and ruffled Harry's hair with a smile.

It took Harry reaching deep down in order to bring up enough energy to smile back. Was this man going to kill him now?

The man's own smile only grew wider. "And you can still manage facial expressions. I'd like to see what else you can do, but any more exposer to my Flames like this cannot be good for a young kid like you. Rest well now."

Confused, Harry could only watch as a blur came from the side of his head. There was a sharp knock and pain at his neck.

Harry's world went black.

* * *

I was hoping to get to this point much sooner in the chapter, but I guess it just got away from me. I try to write a minimum of 1500 to 2000 words per chapter. This one is almost at 4k. Yikes!

Athenakitty mentioned that it was surprising that Harry hadn't been picked up by children's welfare or a government agency yet. I thought it was funny as that was where I was going with the next chapter. Harry is a trouble magnet, so of course he was going to run into authority figures that either want something from him or want to help him for his own good. I hope this chapter portrays that without rushing too much. I'm trying to get to the meat of the story without plowing right through.

This chapter, I deliberately did not mention something about Harry this time. Can anyone spot it?

Also, 3 guesses who the man with the slatted pole is, and the first two don't count. For those that don't know what the slatted pole is, it's a shinai. A bokken is made from a single piece of wood while a shinai is made from slats usually made of bamboo.

As for the action scene, this was my first fight. Sort of fight? I'll need to work on that. I have ideas in my head but explaining them in detail just seems so wordy sometimes. Meh.

I'm glad everyone is enjoy my story so far! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Lamp Light

Ignoring the usual hustle and bustle of the Ministry of Magic, Harry read some papers in his hands as he walked towards his cubicle. It had been about three years since the Final Battle at Hogwarts and the wizarding society was slowly piecing itself back together. After the funerals and mourning for the fallen, those that had survived had rolled up their sleeves and gotten to work repairing the damage, Harry included.

Harry had thought better of finishing his last year at Hogwarts and had elected to sign up for the Auror Academy, a pilot program started by Amelia Bones before the Ministry had been taken over and relit by the new head, Gwain Robards. Two years in the Academy, and Harry was already running his own Auror team, tasked with hunting down not just dark wizards, but remnants left behind from Voldemort's Death Eaters with his team specializing in reconnaissance and stealth. His time running from the Death Eaters and Snatchers had given Harry a lot of experience in hiding and guerrilla warfare tactics which he passed on to his team.

Ducking a paper airplane, Harry slid into his chair, still going over the papers in his hands. He and his team had just returned from a week-long jaunt in Kirkwall. There had been rumors of a small group terrorizing the local enclaves, claiming they were Death Eaters. Copycats were not uncommon, but to be safe Harry and his team were sent to check it out. Thankfully, it was nothing more than some upstarts thinking they could gain power in the fear they invoked. Now, Harry just had to take care of the paperwork after letting his team head home for the night.

Sighing, Harry picked up a quill and started filling in what was needed. Really, all he wanted was to go back to his apartment, have a quick shower, and sleep. His wishes were dashed, however, as a head popped up above his cubicle wall.

"Potter! Welcome back! The Minister heard you were here and wants to see you." Harry hid a wince. The Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was the last person Harry wanted to deal with at the moment. For the last six month Harry and the Minister had been fighting about Harry's future in the Auror Department. Harry liked his job and his position in life. Shacklebolt, however, claimed that eventually there would be no more dark wizards to hunt down worth Harry's attention and that he should start looking at a bigger picture. Specifically something public.

It came as no surprise to Harry that after the war and the shock had worn off that there were many different camps of thought when it came to him. On one hand of the spectrum, the public declared him a hero, a savior, and should be treated as such. On the other, however, the public saw him as a precursor to the next rise of evil. These people had seen the power he had and feared what he could one day represent. It was a tossup which way the paper portrayed him on a daily basis, but the two extremes were always present with little in between.

In order to combat this, Shacklebolt had wanted Harry to become something of a philanthropist. A 'face of the Ministry' he had suggested. Harry took one look at what the Minister was proposing and immediately declined. Shacklebolt's main argument, however, was to curb the unrest caused by those that feared him.

And they feared him for good reason. It was the fire Harry controlled that caused most of the anxiety. Harry had 'discovered' this bright, brilliant fire early in his Hogwarts career and had slowly taught himself how to control it and its many aspects. He has used this fire to literally burn through his foes as he raced through the English woods. Elementals, Hermione had researched, were not unknown, but had gone extinct and had been for several centuries. Harry was the first to crop up in nearly three hundred years. Their extinction had come about due to controversy and, of course, discrimination against them due to the source of their fire – their soul. At the time, there had been a Dark Lord that had specialized in Soul Magic. As such, anything to do with Soul Magic, as it had been dubbed, had been deemed dark and thus unacceptable to practice. It had not been banned, surprisingly, but those that practiced never made it far in wizarding society. Slowly, practitioners disappeared from the British Isles, but the fear of the power the fire gave them still remained. It was Shacklebolt's goal to stop the fear before something drastic came of it.

Harry understood. He really did, but enough was enough. He was not cut out to wearing a suit and tie and parading in front of people. He understood wanting to calm the masses, but he couldn't really care less. He had become desensitized to public opinion. He could wield fire that hadn't been seen in a very long time. Big whoop. If people thought he was suddenly going to start throwing fire balls, that was their problem.

Returning his quill to the inkpot, Harry pulled a tired smile and faced his coworker. "Thanks. I needed to talk to him anyway." His coworker, the name of whom Harry had forgotten as he was rarely in the office, smiled back and waved as he left. Harry's smile immediately dropped. It was best to get the meeting over with. The paperwork would still be there in the morning.

Pushing away from his desk, Harry took his time making his way to the Minister's office. As he walked past other cubicles and hallways, he paid no mind to the buzz of those in the Auror Department. With practiced ease, he ignored the raising hairs on the back of his neck from the intense scrutiny he received from his fellow Aurors and various coworkers. It wasn't just public opinion on him that was divided.

It didn't take long to arrive at the Minister's office. The secretary took one look at him before ducking her head and waving her wand at the door to the office. With a mumbled greeting, she told Harry that the Minister was waiting for him. Harry ignored her and walked through.

Shacklebolt was filling out papers as Harry approached. Harry stood at attention once he covered the small space to the front of the desk, politely waiting for the man to acknowledge him. Finishing the page he was on, Shacklebolt looked up and gave a crooked smile. "Don't just stand there, Potter. Sit. You just got back, didn't you?"

Harry nodded his head as he took a seat. "Thank you, Minister. You wanted to see me?"

Shacklebolt waved a dismissive hand. "Still with the formalities, huh? How many times do I have to tell you to call me Kingsley? You and Granger, I swear."

Harry gave a small smile. "And it is because of Ms Granger that I continue the formalities, sir. She would have my head otherwise."

Shacklebolt chuckled as there was a knock at the door and the secretary came in with a tea set. "The tea you asked for, Minister."

"Ah! Good. Thank you. You can leave it on the desk." The secretary hurriedly did so, making sure to give Harry a wide berth before quickly leaving. Shacklebolt sighed as he poured himself a cut of tea. "And that is why I still think you should accept my proposal, Potter."

Harry lifted his eyebrows slightly as he feigned ignorance. "Whatever do you mean, Minister?"

Shacklebolt gave him an exasperated look. "You know exactly what I mean, Potter," he said as he pulled a newspaper from a drawer. It was the Daily Prophet with yet another article speculating on Harry. Slapping it on the desk for Harry to read, he said, "People are starting to rally, Harry. It won't be long before the public will be clamoring for me to do something. At least this way there is less of a possibility of you getting lynched. Tea?"

Harry held in another sign. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you." He watched as Shacklebolt poured another cup of tea before looking around the room. The hair on the back of his neck had not gone down when he entered and it was making him antsy, but he couldn't spot anything amiss with a quick glance over.

"I'm sure there are ways we can compromise on this, Harry," Shacklebolt said as he held the saucer in his hand. Harry's smirk was answer enough. Shacklebolt gave another sigh as he handed Harry his tea. "I'm only trying to do what's best."

"It wouldn't be enough," Harry commented as he accepted the drink. "They will demand more and more of me until I am all but transparent to them, and even then they will want more." He paused to blow on his tea. "I've tried to blend in ever since starting Hogwarts, and then did my best to remain hidden in order to survive. I'm no politician, Minister."

Shacklebolt gave another sardonic smile. "I guess there's no convincing you, is there?"

Harry gave a thin smile over the rim of his cup as he took a sip.

* * *

Tea.

Merlin's beard but he hated tea. Coffee too for that matter. Anything that had to be prepared actually. Too many chances for someone to tamper with it.

Like the tea he could smell in the air. Some kind of green tea. Very potent if his nose wasn't deceiving him.

Harry laid very still as the darkness in his head slowly lifted. The tea perfumed the air and a quiet murmur could be heard. It took a moment or two for him to switch from English to Japanese in his head, but he faintly heard two men talking.

"…only a kid, Hibari."

"All the more reason to bring him in. He has been causing trouble for quite some time now. The best place for him would be in a home with discipline."

"He was able to move, despite my Flames, with, and I swear to kami, Flames of his own. You know an ordinary children's home would not be able to handle a kid with Active Flames." There was that word again. Flames. Was it the same as his fire? Only, he hadn't been using his fire, had he?

The other man sighed. "Then what do you expect me to do? I cannot just let him go. If he returns to the streets there is a good chance the Momoyokai will go after him again or attract other unwanted attention. Next time he might not crash into one of your bonsai."

"Then let him stay here."

Harry could practically hear the cocked eyebrow when the man he now recognized as the Head of Police, Hibari, said, "And you will look after him?"

"Of course. Should be easy compared to some of the other jobs I've had."

Hibari again sighed. "And his foot? You said he was favoring it."

"Twisted ankle. Nothing a wrapping, a brace, and some rest won't cure. Unless you know a Sun in the area," the man said with a lit in his voice.

The officer gave a small huff. "Fine. I'll start on the paperwork. Are you sure about his, Yama…?" The voice became fainter and any reply was too soft for Harry's ears.

With the two men further from where he was, Harry focused on his senses. He was on a soft yet flat surface. There was a blanket covering him and a pillow under his head. The light was dim through his eyelids and the dull roar of falling rain helped him locate a window. Daring to open his eyes, Harry looked around the best he could without moving. The ceiling was ordinary and there was a sliding window to his left. It was dark out now. A low table on the far wall to his right held a pot of tea, a few cups, and a small oil lamp which gave off the soft lighting. There was a door facing Harry where he laid. Over all, a very Spartan room.

His surroundings surveyed, Harry focused on himself. Someone had wrapped his ankle and bandaged his wounds. There were plasters covering his cheek and forehead. Some of his fingers were wrapped up as well. Gone were his usual clothes and instead he was wearing large sweatpants and a simple shirt.

Soft footsteps signaled someone approaching the door. Before it could slide open, Harry closed his eyes again. He listened as the person stepped into the room, closing the door behind them before heading for the low table and sitting down on the floor. They poured themselves a cup of tea before taking a relaxing sigh. It was the man from before.

"I know you're awake, kid. No use denying it." The man was right. Remembering the ease with which he had taken down the yakuza, Harry could only conclude that this man had some sort of combat training and Harry was sorely out of practice. If it came down to it, Harry knew he would not have beaten this man in a fight, let alone deceived him.

Opening his eyes, Harry turned his head to look at the man who saved him. He sat leaning against the wall, the oil lamp casting dramatic shadows over his face. Propped up beside him was the weird slatted pole he had used to put down the yakuza members.

Seeing him awake, the man's face broke into an easy smile. "Oh good. I was wondering if you were going to ignore me or not. That was quite the ruckus you caused in my yard, I'll have you know," the man admonished. "Dealing with Hibari is not one of my favorite past-times, but I guess it worked out, no?" The man paused to sip his tea, perhaps to give Harry the opportunity to reply. Harry remained silent.

The man continued. "I don't imagine to know what led you to crashing into my bushes, kid, but whatever it was has some very bad people after you." Harry couldn't help but give a huff of derision before turning his head away. "Oh-ho. So you do know what I'm talking about. Hibari keeps the Momoyokai mostly in check, but he is limited in what he can do. The fact that they are going after a street kid like you concerns him." Harry continued to remain silent. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but there are not a lot of homeless in Namimori, and it's because of the Momoyokai." Harry turned back to focus on the man. He had noticed that there were not a lot of people living on the streets which was unusual. "They believe that the streets are theirs so any who use them should be paying them to do so. It's driven the homeless into the neighboring areas instead." The man paused to sip more of his tea. "Therefore, since it's dangerous for you to remain on the street, especially with that ankle of yours, you'll be staying with me for a bit. My name is Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. Sushi chief. Nice to meet you, kid," the man, Yamamoto, introduced with a smile. While Harry was sure the smile was supposed to be friendly and reassuring, the light from the lamp turned it sharp and almost sinister.

Harry closed his eyes and turned his head away again. He could not sense hostility from the man, at least not yet, but there were people that could hide their intentions. Occlumency users were especially hard to read. If the man had wanted him dead, he would be already. The fact that he had obviously called the police also assured Harry that he meant no harm.

But he had trusted other before.

Yamamoto gave a quiet laugh. "The strong silent type, huh? No worries. I'm sure we'll get along fine. We can go over specifics in the morning," he announced as he set his cup down and got up, grabbing his pole as he did so. "You just rest for now. We'll talk later." Yamamoto turned a knob on the lamp and the light dimmed. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't run, alright? I didn't wrap you ankle only for you to damage it in the dark. See you in the morning." With that, Yamamoto slid the door open and walked out, shutting it behind him.

What a strange man, Harry thought, but he couldn't complain. He was in a soft bed with a warm blanket. He had stopped Officer Hibari from taking him and had saved him from the yakuza. Besides, so long as his ankle was damaged the danger the Momoyokai posed was very real. At least for tonight he was relatively safe.

Exhausted, Harry tried to relax his body and go back to sleep. Fuck this shit. His ankle throbbed, his body hurt, his scratches itched, and his head was pounding. He'd deal with it in the morning.

* * *

AN: And break! Hopefully a little bit of back story in order to fill in some of the pieces.

You guys have been amazing! It makes my day every time I see a new review saying that they are enjoying my writing.

I know that the interaction between Tsuyoshi and Harry was minimal, but I hope to change that in the next chapter, so stay tuned!


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